Patients Bleed, Practice Thrives

HOUSTON  Ancel Bud Freeman had been a patient of Dr. Eric Scheffey for the last few years, but as his third round of back surgery approached in 1994, Freeman was getting a bit concerned.

A local paper had reported on lawsuits involving the Houston orthopedic surgeon, and Freeman wanted assurances that his operation would be safe. Scheffey had a ready answer.

Dr. Eric Scheffey did not respond to repeated requests for comment about his National Practitioner Data Bank file. Last month, he walked into a Houston courtroom with his lawyer where he was sued for malpractice.

Scheffey told Freeman he was a victim: Because he stuck up for the working man, who desperately needed surgeries that insurance carriers didnt want to cover, those companies and their friends in the medical establishment were out to get him, Scheffey said.

In fact, it was the medical establishment that kept Freeman from knowing just how bad Scheffeys problems were. Freeman went under the knife never knowing that a national data bank had a file on Scheffey listing more than 29 malpractice payments totaling more than $8 million.

After Scheffeys seven-hour, unassisted surgery, which state medical board records say resulted in Freeman losing about 4 quarts of blood, Freeman was admitted to intensive care. He died the next morning.

He wasnt the first.

Scheffey topped The Courants list of practicing physicians in the United States who have paid the most in malpractice claims and have large numbers of entries in the National Practitioner Data Bank, 40 in his case.

To create the list, The Courant focused on doctors with 25 or more data bank entries, including at least one state regulatory action, and at least $3 million in malpractice payments. Eight physicians fit those criteria; half of them are still practicing.

Few cases illustrate the controversy over licensing problem doctors, and the secrecy surrounding their backgrounds, like that of Scheffey, a wealthy Ferrari collector whose nickname among medical residents at one Houston hospital was Eric the Red. That catchy moniker came not from the color of his sports cars, but from hospital gossip that his patients tended to bleed heavily during surgeries.

Despite his legal troubles, Scheffey  who flunked orthopedic board certification three times  still runs a thriving practice in Houston, where he lives in a gated, $3 million estate with his collections of art and expensive automobiles. He did not respond to messages left at his home, office and lawyers office, nor to a certified letter seeking comment.

Because federal law prohibits anyone other than hospitals, HMOs and licensing boards from checking the data bank, Freeman and other patients of Scheffeys probably never heard of Pete Dunstan, Bobby Hall, Augustine Collins, Charles Caldwell, Craig Watson, Donald Taylor, Ronnie Armstead and John Ingram.

Those are some of the people who have quietly settled malpractice cases against Scheffey over the years. Others, like Mary Tywater, never had a chance to sue.

Shortly before Memorial Day in 1985, Tywater, a 43-year-old housewife from Daisetta, died during a back operation by Scheffey. Scheffey went home and kicked off a long holiday weekend that ended in his arrest for cocaine possession, when he was found wandering in a Montgomery Wards dressed in surgical garb and muttering incoherently, according to court records.

Scheffeys medical license was put on probation for 10 years, but he was allowed to keep practicing. It was left to Tywaters grieving family to press a claim against Scheffey that she bled to death because of his negligence. His insurance company settled the case for $1 million, but Scheffey denied he was negligent.

Although glimpses of Scheffeys legal problems occasionally appeared in the news, none of his patients or even the trial lawyers suing him was able to fully check his background. Lawyers familiar with Scheffeys legal history say the $8.5 million recorded in the data bank does not include another $1 million in payments made by Scheffeys insurance companies in the late 1980s  before the data bank began recording information in September 1990.

Among the payments that do appear are several totaling $2.4 million that went to Pete Dunstan, a former amateur boxer on whom Scheffey performed back surgery three times. Today, Dunstan gets by with a cable threaded through his spine and wire holding his neck together.

Ive spent the last 10 years trying to forget about it, Dunstan said recently. Im still under a doctors care. Im having to take pain blockers, go to physical therapy. My backs worse than ever.

After Freemans death in 1994, the Texas State Board of Medical Examiners held an emergency hearing to consider suspending Scheffeys license.

It is my opinion that Dr. Scheffey is a continuing threat and an imminent threat to the public with his type of practice of medicine, Dr. Bruce Cameron, a Houston orthopedic surgeon, wrote in a statement to the board. He added that he thought Freemans surgery had been unnecessary.

The Freeman case happened to coincide with the release of a lengthy report by an administrative law judge, who examined four cases involving Scheffey and concluded that he performed unwarranted surgeries and then over-charged for them. That inquiry began in 1989, when the state medical board questioned Scheffeys handling of 21 case; it later narrowed the list to just the four.

While noting that Scheffey appeared to have overcome the drug problem that afflicted him in the 1980s, Judge Cathleen Parsley nevertheless recommended that Scheffey lose his license.

The pattern of conduct in this case is too egregious not to be sanctioned heavily, wrote Parsley. Did this doctor over-treat and overcharge these four patients to the extent that revocation of his license is warranted? The answer is simple: yes.

But the medical board didnt find it so simple.

In 1995, it rejected both the petition for an emergency suspension and Parsleys revocation recommendation, and instead put Scheffeys license on probation for five years. The board vote against revocation was 5-3, with five doctor members overruling three public, non-doctor members. One doctor abstained.

Meanwhile, in civil court, Freemans family sued Scheffey for malpractice and lost.

Scheffey continues to practice, although, as part of his probation, he cannot perform operations without another surgeon present. The restrictions do not seem to have dampened his business  a reporter who called his office recently was told Scheffey didnt have time to talk because he has a very, very high-volume practice.

Over the years, Scheffey has defended himself aggressively against his detractors. He has sued reporters who wrote about him, a malpractice insurance company that he accused of slandering him, and a Houston neurosurgeon, Dr. J. Martin Barrash, who has accused him of needing to perform lots of surgeries in order to support an expensive lifestyle.

Ive seen over 100 former patients of his over the years, and its the most frustrating experience, Barrash said in an interview. By the time they get here, theres very little I can do for them.

For the most part, Scheffey has shunned interviews. But during testimony in a 1991 malpractice suit, he defended his dedication to his patients during this exchange:

Q: Dr. Scheffey, do you believe that you care about your patients?

A: I dont believe it. I know it.

Q: If something bad happens to one of your patients, it bothers you, doesnt it?

A: Yes, sir.

Q: It really affects you deeply, doesnt it?

A: Yes, sir.

Q: As a matter of fact, the day that Mary Tywater died, you started your Memorial Day holiday in 1985 at your house in Baytown, where you guys were driving golf balls into the water and doing cocaine, werent you?

Scheffey never had a chance to respond. His attorney stepped in and instructed him not to answer the question.